


Squad Goals: I

by dunedinparsley



Series: Squad Goals [1]
Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Women helping Women, can't everyone just help each other out? the answer is yes they can, gendered violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 07:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunedinparsley/pseuds/dunedinparsley
Summary: It's cold and Alanna doesn't have her phone. Sometimes the peak of bad-arsery comes from kindness. Also medical knowledge and harsh words.Content warning: gendered violence, attempted sexual assault, discussion of medicine and injuries, discussion of rape and murder.





	Squad Goals: I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turibasil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turibasil/gifts).



It wasn't cold, per se, merely dark, on the edge of rain. It had been a burning Summer, and the Autumn overtook with a vengeance. Alanna was not fond of the cold, and hid her hands in the depths of her pockets. It had been silly not to call a cab, she knew, but she was nothing if not stubborn. The boys had been up late drinking, but she stayed sober. After Jon and Raoul had put the other boys to bed – where 'bed' referred to mattresses, couches, blankets on the floor, or in Francis's case, the dog's cushion – Alanna was left feeling out of place. Jon insisted they could share, but she couldn't stand the thought of him trying something, or worse, her trying something.  
  
She loosened her scarf a little, the cold making her sweat as much as the fabric did. She was a good four blocks away from home, but she was quick. It was only twelve, anyway. There were still lights on in restaurants and bars on the other side of the park.

 

Alanna felt a nervous buzz that she couldn't quite place. She had exams in a week, but she had known that for months. That shouldn't have caused any further panic. A group of drunks down the pathway laughed and jeered, but she just kept her head down. She knew more than just 'self-defence'. Anyway, she had walked this path a hundred times. Maybe it was that she didn't have her phone. The boss of the affectionately named 'copper club' restaurant, who had a tendency towards misogyny, had contacted her brother, saying he had her phone - then _insisted_ that he could not get it to her before Monday. _Bullshit_ , she thought, _you're just a sexist prick who thinks_ _women can’t be_ _cop_ _s_ _._

  
She remembered the days when she and Thom could switch places without question. Going to classes that their father considered inappropriate for their genders, getting the other out of trouble via a very solid alibi of _being elsewhere_. She smiled, then felt a harsh pull on her scarf, rendering her breathless for a moment. She forced herself to keep her eyes open as she was tugged around to face a drunk, filthy man. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said, loosening his hold on her. She tried to pull away, shifted her body weight away from the drunk, but he kept firm hold on her scarf, threatening to choke her. “Come on now, we just want some fun. Don't'cha want some fun?”  
  
She felt other people behind her. “I'm in law enforcement, I think that's a clear sign that I don't,” she spat out, trying to figure out how many people there were. She couldn't see much, the man and his foul breath too close to her.  
  
The men all chuckled. “She's a funny one. What's your name, love?”  
  
“I'm not your love.” She felt two hands on her arse, and lunged out, striking the man in front of her right in the balls. She ran, but the men behind her wrapped her thighs and waist in their hands.  
  
She felt the panic fill her up, but she tried to focus. There were three men, in addition to the one on the ground, who was groaning pitifully. She could see a sigil on one of their jackets. The Sampsons, one of the city’s gangs. Knowing who they were didn’t really comfort her. Quite the opposite. She screamed as loudly as she could, biting the hand that covered her mouth.

“Hey!” A loud female voice kept repeating the word. “Hey! Get off her!”  
  
One of the men automatically let go and she heard footsteps departing, just as she heard the domineering _click click click_ of a woman who could run in high heels. “Let go of her, I'm calling the cops!” The man on the ground grabbed her ankle and shoved her over, her head making a dull _thud_ on the cement. He scrambled to his feet and ran for it. She looked up, dizzy, to see the last two men exchange nervous looks, and they, too, ran for it.  
  
Alanna lay there, fighting hard to draw her head up, when the woman appeared in her peripheral vision and slipped one warm, gloved hand under her head. “Oh, you poor girl.” She was on the older side of middle aged, grey streaking her curly hair. Her hazel eyes were small, but wide with concern. “What's your name?  
  
“Alanna,” she mumbled out, sitting up very slowly with the assistance of the woman's hands on her shoulders and lower back.  
  
“Alanna. I'm Eleni. Do you think you can stand?”  
  
“Mhm.” Eleni stood first, taking both of her hands and pulling her up very slowly. “Sorry. 'M fine. Just a bit... shocked.” Eleni held her steady, examined her wrists for her pulse, then her carotid, loosening her scarf in the process. Alanna was _cold._ And oh god, shame was kicking in.  
  
“Don't be silly, gosh, girl.” She turned Alanna around and examined the back of her neck. “It's those hooligans who should be sorry. I'm calling you an ambulance, I mean honestly.”

  
Alanna pulled away and shook her head. She stood on her own. She felt a bit nauseous, but maybe that was just adrenaline. “No, no, I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy.” Eleni raised an eyebrow, and Alanna had the strong sense that she should never meddle with this woman – no-one should. “Really, I'm fine. I just need to... get home. Get some sleep.”  
  
Eleni tutted, facing her once more. “Not if you're concussed. Where do you live?”  
  
“Eighteenth Avenue, a few blocks down.” She rubbed the back of her head, which throbbed painfully. She wasn't bleeding, though. That was something.  
  
“Well I live at Twelfth Avenue, just there.” She pointed to a little house on the street corner, where lights still shone in the windows. “I’m a nurse – well, an ex-nurse – and I think I should probably call you an ambulance, but I can call someone for you if you want. Or you can come rest at my house until your head calms down a bit.”  
  
Alanna kept scratching at the back of her head. “I probably shouldn’t go into a stranger’s house if I’m concussed. Could I-- can I call my brother, though?” She felt bad asking, having implied the woman – Eleni – could do wrong to her, but she didn’t have her phone. She stared at her feet, and at Eleni’s, too. There was indeed no such thing as a ‘practical’ heel, but Eleni’s deep green pumps were worn like both accessory and weapon. Maybe it was just the relief, but Alanna sort of loved her.  
  
“Of course.” Alanna’s head spun, and while she had experienced far worse in terms of injury, she was shaky with distress. She didn’t know why she hadn’t fought them off. Her hands shook, and she hit all of the wrong numbers. “You let me,” Eleni said, and Alanna’s pride took hit after hit as she whispered Thom’s number.  
  
“Hello, this it Thom,” said Thom’s fragmented voice.  
  
“It’s Alanna.”  
  
“Oh, ‘Lanna, hey, sorry I didn’t go get your phone, I didn’t think that that was in the ‘in case of emergency’ responsibilities handbook.” He kept rambling, in a way that indicated he was at least happy if not drunk. She didn’t know how to cut him off, and Eleni took the phone from her shaking hands and put it on speaker.  
  
“Thom, was it? Hello, my name’s Eleni. Your sister has just had-- well, a very unpleasant experience, and while she insists she doesn’t need to go to the hospital I feel that she needs someone’s support right now.”  
  
Thom was silent. “Alanna? Are you there?”  
  
“Yeah,” she whispered. She could see his face, the way his left cheek would suck in when he bit the inside skin, his eyebrows dropping.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“Just some drunks jumped on me, bumped my head.”  
  
“ _Shit_. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?” he asked, though she well knew that _he_ well knew that she would do no such thing.  
  
“Yeah, I’m okay.” Eleni seemed to resist rolling her eyes.

“Thom, just on the off-chance that Alanna has a concussion or any other as-of-yet invisible injuries, would you be able to come be with her or at least call her frequently until she’s better?” Her voice was so beautiful. All soft vowels and perfectly clipped consonants, a voice in control.  
  
Thom almost spoke over her. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m in the Northern suburbs, but I can be at your place in an hour. Will you be okay until then?” The reality of Thom coming hit Alanna like ice water.  
  
“Yes, of course. Look, I’m fine, Thom, you don’t have to come--”  


He _did_ cut her off. “Yes, I do.” Affection and shame fluttered in her chest. “See you soon, Alanna.” He ended the call before she could say ‘goodbye’. She hadn’t realised she’d been looking at her feet. Trying to lift her head made her quite sure she had whiplash.  
  
Eleni made silence seem natural. She spoke after what seemed like eons. “Don’t let your pride hurt you, dear. I think brothers are there to be both wounds and bandages, and that applies to pride, too. Can you walk okay?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” She added in hurriedly, “Really, this is all nothing.”  
  
“No, it’s not. You know it’s not.” Eleni’s gaze was steady. There was no judgement. She slipped an arm around Alanna’s waist, bracing her in all of the right places. “Come on, slowly now. That’ll be one nasty bruise.”  
  
“I think I’ve twisted my ankle,” she said after a few metres of walking in silence. She didn’t say it for a response, more, in the hopes that in saying it the pain would vanish. It didn’t.  
  
“Do you have a good doctor you can see?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Can I tie it up for you anyway? We can just sit on a bench on the road if you don’t want to come inside, but if it’s _sprained_ you don’t want the tissue to be damaged any further.”  
  
She didn’t really consider it before saying, “Yeah, okay.”  
  
“Excuse me for a moment.” Eleni must have dropped her shopping bags coming for Alanna, and out of instinct alone Alanna took them all up before Eleni had lifted just one. Her head spun, her neck ached. She kept firm hold of them anyway. “You don’t have to--”  
  
“You’re being kind, it’s the least I can do,” Alanna said, through pain-gritted teeth.  
  
“I’m being _decent_ , there’s a difference.” Eleni scowled, and they walked for a while, pressed side-to-side. “It’s quite the night for it, I’ve got to say. My boy, George, he’s gone and sprained his ankle and dislocated three of his fingers. He had one of his _friends_ set his fingers, but _I’ve_ got to clean up the mess.”  
  
“Will he be okay?”  
  
“Oh yes, he’ll be fine. He’s constantly in trouble, but he’s tough. I don’t think he’d be quite so tough if I wasn’t constantly setting dislocations and disinfecting head wounds, but maybe that’s false pride.”  
  
“I’m a cop,” Alanna said faintly.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t say anything incriminating.” They walked in silence for a few minutes, which felt far too long for Alanna’s liking, but finally came to a little flat with the Medical Association sigil on the door. Alanna paused. Eleni didn’t flinch or look offended or any of the sort, just smiled. “Your brother has my phone number, he’ll know who to blame if you go missing.”  
  
Alanna chuckled. “Yeah.”  
  
Eleni banged the door, and shouted in quite a different tone, “George! George, open the door for your mother, you scoundrel.”  
  
Alanna wasn’t sure what she had been expecting of the scoundrel in question, but it certainly wasn’t the man who opened the door. He was tall – very tall – and broad with muscle. The brown skin of his hands were covered with scars, and Alanna wanted to know the story of each and every one of them. He had a faded black eye and a nose that had been broken at least once, but his curls, eyes, and charming grin made him oddly handsome. “Who have you adopted, Mother? I know I’m a disappointment but--”  
  
“Shush.” George shut up. Eleni tightened her grip on Alanna’s waist. “Come on, careful on the stairs.” There were only four, but Alanna struggled nonetheless. George’s brows were furrowed in the same contour of his mother’s, hazel eyes alight with concern. Alanna _hated_ being vulnerable, and now she was in this strange woman’s house with her criminal son, and maybe a concussion, and a quite substantial amount of upset--  
  
George took the bags from her hands, his forearms touching hers. She didn’t flinch. She worked hard to learn not to flinch, no matter how scared she was, no matter how many large men loomed over her. She was quite good at that. After the initial fight of panic – _heavens I’m sleep deprived –_ she realised that there was absolutely no reason to flinch.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your space,” he said as he put the bags down on a coffee table. She took the opportunity to look around the room, standing in the doorway. It was a living room, crowded but neat, full of warm colour and posters of quotes and trees and waterfalls.  
  
“It’s fine,” she said faintly. Eleni had cleared some books off an arm chair with a clatter, and indicated for her to sit down.  
  
“George, I love you dearly, but she’s hurt a fair but worse than you right now, so you’ll have to wait.”  
  
George didn’t seem fussed. There were specks of blood all over him and swelling coming up in various patches, but he was smiling, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Can I help?”  
  
Without looking up his mother responded, “Boil the kettle and make a pot of tea. The stuff in the blue tin, three tablespoons.” Alanna let herself drift out of focus. She wouldn’t sleep, but she figured if she could block out some of the pain she may as well.  
  
Eleni was washing her hands when George came and set a cup of tea at her side. “What’s your name?” he asked.  
  
“Alanna.”  
  
“Good to meet you. I’m George.”  
  
“Good to meet you.”  


“He’s a good boy,” Eleni said. “Shoes off, scarf off.” Once Alanna had done as she was told a light blue wool blanket was laid over her. “It’s just twisted,” Eleni said, “Not sprained, nor broken. I’m still going to bandage it. If you’re a cop I’d imagine you’re on your feet a lot.”  
  
“Yeah. Thank you.” Eleni struggled, twisting herself around to reach the bandages and cream. The motion in her hips was clearly limited. “You don’t have to do this,” Alanna said, and just-noticed George scoffing.She received a light smack on the calf.

“Bloody hell, girl, yes, I do.” Eleni’s hands were steady, and the first bit of medical tape was so small Alanna barely felt it, even as it held the bandages in place. She felt like she was hearing Eleni’s words as in hindsight, as a memory, lagging. “I’m a nurse, albeit retired, and more importantly I don’t believe that any woman deserves to suffer the aftermath of assault on her own. It’s debilitating.”  
  
“Mum’s of the belief that the only redeeming factor of a world with vile men is connection with other women,” said George. He had sprawled himself across the floor, back supported by the perfectly-vacant couch. He smiled, like he was fighting laughter. “I’d love to flatter you and say you’re the first girl she’s helped, but you’re not. No-one in the house before, though.”  
  
Eleni clasped the butterfly clip in with a neat turn of her fingertips and looked up at Alanna, still for a moment at her feet. “Oh, she sassed them then kneed a couple of them in the balls from what I figured, I like this one,” she said brusquely, and got to her feet. “Your turn, laddie. Up.” With a light smack to his shoulder, George was seated on the couch, shoes off and over-shirt off.  
  
Alanna didn’t need to try not to look at them as they bickered and managed his wounds. She drifted, half-asleep, with George snapping his fingers right next to her ear if he ever thought she looked too gone. While the tea itself tasted bland, the second Alanna swallowed her head began to clear. “I realised long ago that the sign of someone who’s truly in charge is someone who can run in heels.” The words felt sticky in her mouth but she felt she needed to say something.  
  
“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” George said, one eye wide open as the other was held shut for cream to be dabbed on.  
  
“I can barely stand in them, let alone run!” Alanna knew her voice was unbalanced, but George was chuckling and that was nice.  
  
“I wore them once for a party and it didn’t serve me well.” Eleni tutted. Alanna marvelled at the idea of someone who must easily be a hundred and ninety centimetres tall in heels, and from the look on George’s reminiscing face they were probably more ‘Rocky Horror’ than ‘sensible business’. “Alanna, do we need to call anyone?”  
  
She must have taken too long to respond, as Eleni said, “Her brother’s going to stay with her tonight. I wanted to treat her first, that’s all,” Eleni said, as if she somehow had to defend herself. Alanna wouldn’t admit it, but Eleni had dealt with the assault better than most cops ever would.  
  
“I meant the police.” Eleni seemed surprised at this, and though she began to speak, Alanna spoke over her.  
  
“I-- no, no police.” She paused. “I _am_ the police,” she said, voice breaking a little. “And no good’ll come of it. I know who they were, I’ll get back at them.”  
  
“Who were they?” George made her focus. The swelling on his eyes was nasty, but there as no clarity lost in the way he was looking at her, analysing her.  
  
Eleni slapped his knee. “Don’t be rude.” George was still looking at her, hazel eyes still. Alanna didn’t know what was right to tell him, but she could tell _he_ could probably tell already.  
  
“The… the Sampsons. They’re a gang from the East suburbs. They’re responsible for most of the rape-murders and child assaults that’ve been scattering the news.” George didn’t react. Eleni had stilled entirely on the floor, and Alanna could see form her periphery that she had clenched her fists. “I’ll file a report in the morning, break some protocols, make--” Her head lolled to the side all of a sudden, and her words cut off short. George automatically put his hand on the back of her neck and braced it, fingertips loose, almost touching his own palm again. Eleni had struggled to her feet. Alanna couldn’t tell if she was saying ‘I’m fine’ or just thinking it.  
  
“Deep breath in. Deep breath out.” A bright light in her eyes. “Okay, follow my finger.” It drifted slowly in front of her face, but she could follow it. She truly was fine, but still went along as Eleni gave orders, and George kept correcting her posture.  
  
“Squeeze my finger. Name three animals starting with the letter ‘a’. Wave your right hand.”  
  
Someone’s phone rang. “This is George answering for Eleni.”  
  
_“Hi, this is Thom Trebond asking after Alanna.”_  
  
“Hi Thom,” Eleni said, and in unison both of them stopped holding her up, let her hold herself up. “Alanna’s definitely got a concussion, I’m thinking she needs to get to a hospital.”  
  
Alanna straightened herself up and ran her hands through her hair as she said, “I’m fine, Eleni.” Thom, of course, ignored her.  
  
_“Well, I’ll take her to the hospital. She doesn’t like ambulances. I’m in the district now – what’s your address?”_ There was a conversation Alanna didn’t care much for, until Thom said her name. _“Alanna? ‘Lana?”_  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
_“How are you?”_  
  
“I’m fine. Really, twenty-four hours, I’ll just have a sore ankle and a nasty headache.”  
  
_“Okay. I’ll be there in ten minutes, then we’ll see.”_ She hummed. He hung up.

  
“Is he older or younger?” George asked. “No reason,” he said, before she could ask. “Just curious.”  
  
“We’re twins,” she said. She stood up slowly, and felt Eleni’s readiness to catch her if she fell. “He’s older by six minutes.”  
  
“A cop, too?”  
  
“Lawyer,” she corrected. It felt wrong, standing up, but somehow better anyway. George followed her lead and stood up slowly, flexing out his fingers, turning his ankles, and winced. “Do you want me to get anyone in trouble for this, George?” she asked after a moment. It wasn’t the type of thing she should say, but she said it anyway.  
  
“Nah.” He winked at her with an enormous smile. “Thank you. Think it was the same guys you’re after, anyway, so a common goal.” She started flexing her arms, staring at a hole in the wall to keep herself steady. “You’re calm, for one of the city’s own guards.”  
  
She snorted. “I’ve been told I’m the least calm of my team, actually.”  
  
George made a noise low in his throat, and his eyes twinkled with laughter. “Maybe it’s the concussion.”  
  
“I don’t think it’s a concussion, just a hard hit.” She was lying, and Eleni pushed another glass of water into her hand. She drank it obediently, and the glass was just large enough that she couldn’t protest Eleni saying,  
  
“I hate tough people, you make medicine so much harder.” She took the glass back and looked Alanna up and down. She had taken her heels off, and they were almost the same height. Still taller, but not by much. Alanna liked that.  
  
“I’ll call you, if you’d like.” Alanna said. “I owe you… more than one.”  
  
Eleni’s scowl broke into a smile. “Nonsense.” She patted Alanna’s shoulder. “But you can call me whenever you’d like. And if you can let me know that you’re doing okay in a couple of days time, that would be wonderful.” She looked over Alanna’s head. “George, get the girl one of my business cards.”  
  
“Yes ma’am.” A business card with ‘Eleni Cooper, Women’s Advocate of the Medical Association’ and her phone number on one side in neat print, and ‘George Cooper, professional scoundrel’ and his phone number in pen on the other side was pressed into her palm, just as the doorbell rang.  
  
Thom was aflurry with worry, but he patted her down and looked at her head and held a conversation with her, and he seemed satisfied that she would _be_ okay, even if she wasn’t. He was flushed in the cheeks and wearing too many coats and scarves by any normal person’s standards, but just the right amount by Alanna’s.  
  
“Thank you,” she said to Eleni. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”  
  
Eleni gripped Alanna’s hands in both of her own. They were aging hands, covered in wrinkles and scars, and Alanna hoped to stay with the woman for as long as she lived. “I trust you, I trust your brother, but you stay safe.”  
  
George had acknowledged Thom with a smile and a quick hello, and did much the same upon their departure, but added to Alanna: “If I disappoint her one more time she might need some new child. Are you in?” Alanna snorted.  
  
“Sure, why not?”  
  
“Kick some arse,” George called over his shoulder, already walking back into the house.  
  
Thom knew her well enough to know her boundaries of touch, and helped her down the steps and across the road with an arm around her waist and their shoulders pressed together. “I’ve missed you, idiot,” she said.  
  
“Now the ‘idiot’ was just unnecessary.” He paused. “Idiot,” he added, nudging her. She giggled, a little giddy, and practically fell into the front seat of his car. “I’ve spent the past hour listening to tutorials on how to look after people with concussions, so don’t assume you’re getting proper sleep. And don't think I won't take you to hospital just because I like you.”  
  
“Idiot,” she said again. “Thanks.”  
  
He smiled broadly as he started the car. “Any time, Alanna.” She did drift off to sleep in the car, Thom holding her hand and squeezing hard whenever he noticed her snores. Still, she dozed, thinking about men who needed to be in prison and women who save the world and men who smile broadly.  


**Author's Note:**

> for turibasil for achieving stuff in life, and really needing more George in their life. There's not much George, but it's a start.


End file.
